


The Best of Times

by VisionaryGalaxy



Series: A Thousand Futures of Me and You [55]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Boys In Love, Don't copy to another site, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, We've come a really long way, ahem, supportive Stephen Strange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-17 17:41:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17565038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VisionaryGalaxy/pseuds/VisionaryGalaxy
Summary: It had been exactly one year, four months, and twenty-seven days since the Snap.





	The Best of Times

**Author's Note:**

> Could be better but I still cried a little so that's a good sign. Honestly it isn't even sad though so maybe a bad sign?

   It had been exactly one year, four months, and twenty-seven days since the Snap.

 

   Of that time, it had been one year, one month, and fifteen days since Pepper and he split, amicably enough, if still unsettling, while they struggled to find their feet on new and shaky terrain.

   Since then, it had been one year and eight days since the rogue Avengers returned to the compound, bringing with them tentative smiles, maddening manners, uneasy questions, and a whole host of miniature problems and negotiations that someone decided it was Tony’s job to deal with.

   After that it was only one year and two days since their first mission together as an entire team, both too soon after the snap and not soon enough. It went well…it almost felt like old times. Tony contemplated putting Steve in charge of all the bullshit…he didn’t.

   That was a dark spot…but eleven months and twenty-eight days post-snap Tony realized he was spending more time in a dusty museum then his own compound.

   Ten months and twenty-two days, Wanda and Vision got married. That was a fiasco, seeing as Vision wasn’t technically alive, or human, or even had a social security number. He brought Stephen as his plus one.

   Ten months and twenty-days, he and Stephen first kissed. It was fucking glorious.

   Nine months and fifteen days, significant because for the first time, an Avengers call went out and he didn’t move. He sat in his office at the compound staring blankly at a wall. He hated himself afterwards.

   Eight months and one day. Tony started shoving off the paperwork to the orderlies, staying in bed with Stephen longer, his teammates started looking at him funny, well except Rhodes.

   Six months and nine days. Tony invented something new. It was the first time he had entered his workshop since the world went to hell. He wasn’t even sure what it was, but he knew sitting there in his familiar chair was euphoric.

   Five months and four days. Bruce stood in his office, tense and sad, while Stephen stood behind his own chair, hands on his shoulders in a show of solidarity. Bruce wanted to retire, wanted to disappear. Tony made it happen and the only thing he felt more then the loss of a friend, was the jealously and envy tightening around his throat like a noose.

   Four months and twenty days. The first time the thought of quitting flitted through his mind. Tony stood in front of the Snap memorial in Washington DC as penance for nearly five hours, until Stephen dragged him away.

   Two months and six days. Tony’s leg snapped like a twig after being tossed into a building, despite the protective housing of his suit. Everyone worried, especially Stephen, leaving Tony feeling guilty because part of him wished it was a more permanent injury.

   One month and three days. Tony watched in silence with Rogers right next to him as the Avengers trained, new and old. He thinks they are ready, starts to believe he is no longer needed. Peter gets injured on the next mission from a stupid mistake and Tony is mad at both of them.

   Seventeen days since that event, that Stephen showed up with a smile and a cup of coffee, sat in front of him and proceeded to distract him from work for two hours. When he asked if he would be home late, something in Tony wanted to cry when he said yes.

   Finally, forty-six hours, eight minutes, and thirty-two seconds since that exact moment, Tony was sitting in his comfortable chair in the compound office staring down at the thick stack of papers detailing his resignation and retirement from the Avengers initiative.

   He was fond of lists and counting, his accuracy courtesy of his ridiculous IQ. He had also discovered, as per Stephen’s suggestion, it was a wonderful way to calm himself down at moments like these, where it felt like there was something crushing his chest and squeezing his heart.

   “Are you ready?”

   Tony didn’t look up, eyes on the papers, blurring from the intensity with which he glared. Stephen’s voice was quiet, gentle, carefully constructed not to be pushy or demanding. He was grateful for that, the only solid ground in the whirlwind that was his body and mind at this moment. Idly, he wondered if it was selfish of him to have Stephen here, watching him struggle with this decision when he never could. Stephen didn’t have the choice, while Tony’s simply _felt_ like he didn’t.

   “I don’t know,” he said finally.

   “Its ok, you can wait. Think it through a little more.”

   He shook his head roughly, his fingers curling into fists, nearly snapping the pen gripped in his right hand.

   He knew his breathing had grown rough, could feel the tell-tale pinpricks in his eyes that he refused to acknowledge. Fuck, he was so tired. Everything felt slanted and worn thin since Thanos, hell, since the confrontation with Steve, losing Pepper. He was so, so tired.

   “Tony?”

   He did look up now, saw Stephen’s expression drawn tight with concern. Slowly, he reached across the desk until his trembling limbs slid over clenched left hand, unbearably soothing, “talk to me love. What are you thinking? What are you feeling?”

   That deep baritone had a way of seeping into Tony’s bones, clearing his mind and making him focus. It was the same tone he used when Tony was in the midst of a horrific panic attack, the same voice that would talk and laugh with him for hours on end after Tony’s nightmares woke them both up.

   This man in front of him, was fifty percent of the reason he wanted to do this. He wanted to waste his days in the dusty library, learning and discovering, he wanted to wake up and fall asleep next to him, he wanted to sit next to him in silence and not be constantly on edge, waiting for a call to save the world.

   The other fifty percent, however, that was all selfishness. He had let half of the universe’s population slip into dust, he was alone and cold, facing the reality of failure…the only thing worse then death. He saved them, every single soul that had slipped away, he had saved them, and he still felt hollow afterwards. Then, was expected to continue. Go on mission, reconcile, shut up and do his job and keep saving, keep fighting, keep going. He was tired. It should be enough, enough to make him sign that damn line.

_But_

   Tony swallowed thickly, found his eyes focusing behind Stephen’s concerned gaze. Sitting behind his lover, in a place of honor, was the first mask, the only thing he still had from the cave in Afghanistan.

   “I knew a man,” Tony began shakily, his hand turning to clutch Stephen’s desperately. “his name was Ho Yinsen.”

   Just saying the words seemed to transport him to the familiar dark, cold cave that haunted his dreams. He could recall in startling clarity, the feeling of the rough stone beneath his hands, the chilled sweat when he first woke, the pain emanating from his chest for the first. He recalled the unfamiliar voices, the fear and anger, the determination.

   “Who was he?” Stephen questioned quietly.

   Tony’s face crumpled, eyes falling closed, holding that mask in his mind’s eye, “he was a man, just a simple brilliant man. But he was _good_ , he was honest, he was brave.”

   Tony could feel the thin shivers going through his body, and Stephen’s hand suddenly felt like an anchor, “he convinced me to do better, he wasn’t afraid to tell me the truth about my company, about what he thought of me.” He took a shuddering breath, “he was the first man…in a very long time who believed in who I could be, instead of seeing only who I was.”

   Looking back down at the papers, it felt like betrayal, “the very last thing he told me before he died, was to not waste it, to not waste my life.” Tony couldn’t stop the tear that slipped from his eyes, didn’t bother trying to wipe it. Instead he looked at Stephen, who own expression had turned horribly sad and it fucking hurt, so much. “How?” he asked. “How do I sign this? How do just stop?”

   “Tony,” Stephen’s hand tightened, though it must have hurt him. He leaned over the desk, his blue-green eyes piercing his with a fiery conviction that he felt in his soul. “You have done enough. There is no doubt in my mind…that you have made him _proud.”_

   “Thousands, thousands of lives Stephen. All because of me, my company,” Tony said helplessly, the tears falling freely.

   His lover nodded and a sob slipped from Tony’s trembling lips, but he only reached across to tug the pen from Tony’s hand, “yes, and they will be with you until the day you die. But you have paid your price, you have changed and have made up for it a million times over.”

   Stephen was standing then, coming around the desk and pulling Tony into his arms, his entire lean frame bent over Tony’s sobbing form in the chair. He buried his face into the rough fabric of his lover’s tunic, gripped the sleeves with a wild desperation, made only worse by the outburst of emotion that was so unlike him.

   Warm fingers ran through his hair, soothing, all the while murmuring quiet assurances. Tony didn’t know how to do it. Ever since the thought of leaving had crossed his mind, his nights were plagued by the man’s death, his last breath, his words echoing like a promise and a threat through his waking hours. He made a promise to a dying man…was there ever a moment where it was enough? Tony didn’t think so.

   Yet, there was one more thing. Ever since that cave, ever since he had emerged in that Iron suit, horribly patched together and terribly inefficient…he hadn’t been Tony Stark anymore. He didn’t know how to be.

   He was Iron Man.

   Iron Man, defended the world, sassed the government, ran into fights not away from them. Iron Man didn’t retire or grow exhausted from his duty, Iron Man, wasn’t supposed to be crying in the arms of his lover.

   He didn’t know how to be Tony Stark anymore, wasn’t even sure who he was.

   “Tony, stepping away does not mean failure, it does not mean abandonment.”

   He pulled away from the warm comfort of Stephen’s arms and looked up at his sorcerer, unsteady and a little ill, but the tears had slowed, “if I sign this…I won’t be Iron Man, I won’t be an Avenger, how is that not abandonment?”

   Stephen’s brows furrowed and he shook his head. Slowly he fell to his knees, hands coming to rest on his thighs as the man met his gaze with determination, “signing that paper, only means you will no longer be anyone’s first call. _You_ are Iron Man, you Tony Stark will always be Iron Man, active duty or not. There is no world, no dimension in which that will ever change, which you could ever be replaced.” His fingers dug into the skin of his thigh, when Tony’s eyes began to look away from the intensity of his gaze. “You will also, _always be an Avenger_ , retirement or not. _You_ , it was you that Avenged this Earth after Titan, you are the man who had given and given everything for this initiative and for the others. Not a single soul on this planet for the next hundred years will forget that or say differently.”

“What about the others? Peter?”

   Stephen gave a weak smile, “it would be naïve of us to think, you retiring means you’ll get rid of Peter. You’ll be training him well into old age love. As for the others…” Stephen paused, seemingly choosing his words carefully. “We need to trust them. If they really and truly need you, they will call and you will answer. But I think its time for them to take some of the load.”

   Tony wished he knew why this was so hard. He wanted…like a man drowning and gasping for air…to step away, to finally take the time to be alive. He wanted it, but he was scared to leave, he was scared of the people who might die when he goes, scared he won’t know how to live a normal life, running a company and loving this man. And the truth was…he liked being Iron Man and it was devastating to think it was all over.

  “What do you want me to do?”

   Stephen stilled at the question, “I can’t make this choice for you love,” his tone was apologetic, and Tony knew it hurt him to see him this way.

   Still, he couldn’t help himself, “please? Just…I need to know. You’re the one who will have to put up with me after and I need…help.”

   He could see the battle on his lover’s face and Tony’s heart swelled with gratitude for the man before him. Then slowly…carefully but so earnestly, “There is nothing I want more then to have a future where we can grow old together and you won’t be stolen from me too soon.” Tony’s heart beat a painful rhythm at the words until Stephen’s reached a hand up to cup his cheek. “But I couldn’t bear to live that future if you were miserable in it. I’d rather lose you young and happy, then old and angry with yourself and the world.”

   Tony’s eyes fluttered closed, tilted his head into the touch, felt a thumb shakily wipe at the tears there. Tony is pretty sure there was no right answer here, nothing to guide him toward the right path. He did not believe he had earned a reprieve yet, not even close, not after all the damage he had done. But he also wasn’t sure what more he could do.

   Carefully, Tony picked the pen up in his hand, took a steadying breath.

   He had been Iron Man, He had saved the world on three separate occasions and he thinks for all of it, for all the pain, heartache, misery, loss, adrenalin, excitement, and wonder…he is a better man.

   All Tony could do is _hope_ now, the only thing that had ever kept him going, that he had done enough to make Dr. Yinsen glad he had saved his life and given his own.

   But Stephen was right, if he was needed again, he would go. Today, however, Tony was ready to face a new future, one where maybe he could finally live it right, after all the lessons he had learned.

   Still…it didn’t stop the hollow ache in his heart as the pen glided smoothly along the paper, a tell-tale sign that, although he was moving toward something new and good…he was leaving behind the best of times.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you thought!   
> I feel like Iron Man would always go down fighting instead of retiring but I tried anyway.   
> Also! I listened to Snow Patrol- What if this is all the love you ever get (a love song, but ignoring that I still felt like it went well with the scene.)


End file.
